I'm onto my Forth revisit to having a cold (and getting rather tired of it). My dear family is also onto their Nth iteration of having a cold (or, to be excruciatingly mathematical, their "Sth" iteration), so we had just finished watching one of my top ten movies of all time (Singin' in the Rain, and the song. I love how in that movie that the only possible responses to "Moses supposes his toës are roses, but Moses supposes erroneously. For Moses he knowes his toës aren't roses, as Moses supposes his toës to be" are "Hoop-di-do-di-do-di" and "It couldn't be a [many different kinds of flowers] but a 'rose' because it rhymes with 'Mose'" and one of the standout, knockdown, silly, fun and funny taps of all time) and were onto one of my other top ten movies of all time -- The Importance of Being Earnest (you can do further search on your own, I'm sure).
At the end of that movie, where "'Earnest' Worthing" discovers he does, indeed, have a brother, Isabel turned to me from her scootched (scootch-scootch-scootch she squeaks as she pushes me further toward the edge of the big-big bed) in snuggled position.
L'il Iz: He has a brother! she exclaimed happily.
L'il Iz: I want to have a brother.
Me, ouch: Yes, I want [you to have] a brother, too. kissing her head tenderly.
Bedtime, and bedtime stories occupied her mind with other things. Now the problem is how to occupy my mind with other things? She may already have a baby brother, and we hope she may have one yet. After all, Sarah Was Ninety-Nine Years Old when she conceived Isaac ...